‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
125
Taylor knew he was lost. It was a long drive before he even found a main road – a lot longer than when Nate had taken him to the hospital. On the positive side he was sure by going the wrong way that he wouldn’t accidentally run into Nate on the way out.
Finally on bitumen, Taylor picked up speed. He didn’t appear to be in a civilised area, and it did cross his mind that he might be blindingly headed out toward the desert. When he did pass cars headed in the opposite direction, he resisted the urge to call on them for help. He remembered all too well the car accident eight years ago that had resulted in meeting Trent for the first time, and while it wasn’t likely to happen again he knew that Nate was out looking for a new car.
Worried that he was almost out of fuel, he was relieved when he finally came across a road sign.
“San Fernando – Reynosa,” he said out loud, quickly running it through his head to work out where he might be.
Not knowing Mexico all that well was discouraging, but Reynosa at least sounded familiar. With that in mind he turned left and headed for the border city. Minutes later he’d hit civilisation and there was finally other traffic on the road.
When he came into the city he began to worry about getting off the highway. He knew it was coming to an end up ahead and he didn’t know where to go next. Some of the signs he’d passed had indicated the direction of the United States border, so he eventually decided to just follow their lead.
He hadn’t gone far after the main turnoff before he saw flashing lights in his mirrors.
“About time,” he muttered, knowing full well he’d been going over the speed limit for the entire journey so far.
He pulled off the side of the road and looked over his shoulder as he saw the officers pull up behind him. Only one got out of the car and made his way over. He asked Taylor something in Spanish.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know Spanish,” Taylor shook his head.
It was then that the officer shone his flashlight in the car for the first time, immediately seeing the chain hanging down.
He let out an exclamation in Spanish before stepping back. Taylor’s eyes darted worriedly.
“Can you step out of the car, Sir?” the officer asked with a thick accent.
“Sure,” Taylor was relieved, opening the car door and stepping out.
The end of the chain fell to the bitumen and he suddenly felt a little embarrassed by it. Cars continued to pass them, the majority not paying them any mind.
“Do you have identification?” the officer was looking him up and down, pausing the flashlight at both his wrists and ankles where there were obvious wounds.
“No, I’m sorry,” Taylor shook his head, “but my name is Taylor Hanson.”
“Wait here,” the officer insisted, before walking back to his car.
Taylor looked back down the highway worriedly. He hoped he was far enough away, but there was still a minor chance that Nate would have come this far.
Self-consciously he gathered the chain up and stuffed it into one of his jean pockets as he waited.
He flinched as the flashlight shone in his eyes again before the officer made his way back over.
“Taylor Hanson, you say?”
“Yes Sir,” Taylor couldn’t help but be hopeful.
“You’ll be wanting to come with us,” the officer indicated for him to follow him back.
“Very much so,” Taylor agreed, gladly obliging.
Finally on bitumen, Taylor picked up speed. He didn’t appear to be in a civilised area, and it did cross his mind that he might be blindingly headed out toward the desert. When he did pass cars headed in the opposite direction, he resisted the urge to call on them for help. He remembered all too well the car accident eight years ago that had resulted in meeting Trent for the first time, and while it wasn’t likely to happen again he knew that Nate was out looking for a new car.
Worried that he was almost out of fuel, he was relieved when he finally came across a road sign.
“San Fernando – Reynosa,” he said out loud, quickly running it through his head to work out where he might be.
Not knowing Mexico all that well was discouraging, but Reynosa at least sounded familiar. With that in mind he turned left and headed for the border city. Minutes later he’d hit civilisation and there was finally other traffic on the road.
When he came into the city he began to worry about getting off the highway. He knew it was coming to an end up ahead and he didn’t know where to go next. Some of the signs he’d passed had indicated the direction of the United States border, so he eventually decided to just follow their lead.
He hadn’t gone far after the main turnoff before he saw flashing lights in his mirrors.
“About time,” he muttered, knowing full well he’d been going over the speed limit for the entire journey so far.
He pulled off the side of the road and looked over his shoulder as he saw the officers pull up behind him. Only one got out of the car and made his way over. He asked Taylor something in Spanish.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know Spanish,” Taylor shook his head.
It was then that the officer shone his flashlight in the car for the first time, immediately seeing the chain hanging down.
He let out an exclamation in Spanish before stepping back. Taylor’s eyes darted worriedly.
“Can you step out of the car, Sir?” the officer asked with a thick accent.
“Sure,” Taylor was relieved, opening the car door and stepping out.
The end of the chain fell to the bitumen and he suddenly felt a little embarrassed by it. Cars continued to pass them, the majority not paying them any mind.
“Do you have identification?” the officer was looking him up and down, pausing the flashlight at both his wrists and ankles where there were obvious wounds.
“No, I’m sorry,” Taylor shook his head, “but my name is Taylor Hanson.”
“Wait here,” the officer insisted, before walking back to his car.
Taylor looked back down the highway worriedly. He hoped he was far enough away, but there was still a minor chance that Nate would have come this far.
Self-consciously he gathered the chain up and stuffed it into one of his jean pockets as he waited.
He flinched as the flashlight shone in his eyes again before the officer made his way back over.
“Taylor Hanson, you say?”
“Yes Sir,” Taylor couldn’t help but be hopeful.
“You’ll be wanting to come with us,” the officer indicated for him to follow him back.
“Very much so,” Taylor agreed, gladly obliging.